


a method to the madness

by thunderylee



Category: Avenged Sevenfold, Dir en grey, Good Charlotte, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, KAT-TUN (Band), KinKi Kids, Panic! at the Disco, Tackey & Tsubasa
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, pedo jokes that aren't funny anymore, side pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-17
Updated: 2007-04-17
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: All they wanted to do was discover their fates…





	a method to the madness

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. dir en gray scenes added by thblackflame.

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Hermione Granger blew a particularly fluffy strand of hair out of her face. “Since when have I ever been wrong?”

Ron Weasley scrunched up his face in thought, presumably thinking back on everything that had happened to them in the past six years. (This took a very long while. Hermione rolled her eyes after thirty seconds and returned to the spell. Harry Potter got up to take a piss, bake a roast, and floo Neville to ask how it was hanging. He spent about twenty minutes thinking of unspeakable things he could do to Draco Malfoy before slipping into Ginny’s room for some of that awesome two-months-after-breaking-up sex. He had just finished his post-coital cigarette in the garden – yeah, he smokes, kiss his ass – and returned to Ron’s bedroom when Ron spoke next.) “I suppose you haven’t. But Hermione, you said so yourself on page [insert page number here] of _Prisoner of Azkaban_ that time should not be tampered with.”

“That wasn’t me,” Hermione corrected naturally. “That was Professor McGonagall. You should really pay more attention to your canon.”

Ron frowned. “But I was so hot in that movie!”

“Hermione,” Harry said simply, drawling his British accent. “What _exactly_ will this spell do?”

Hermione looked positively enthralled to discuss her favorite topic: things that Harry and Ron will never understand. “You see, Harry, by mixing together all this crap that the author is too lazy to either research on the Lexicon or pull out of her ass, the three of us will be able to jump forward in time to see if all of this Horcrux shit is worth our efforts.”

“Huh?” Harry and Ron replied, predictably, in unison.

Huffing, Hermione put her hands on her hips, which was rather difficult to do while in a sitting position but she managed to pull it off. “Think about it. We go into the future _after_ the seventh book is released, then we read it to find out what happens! It will save us an endless amount of trouble.”

“But Hermione,” Harry interrupted, as he was prone to do. “What if the seventh book ends and Voldemort is still alive? Or even worse, what if one of us dies?! Or worse yet, what if you and Ron end up together?”

“Then we kill ourselves.” Hermione shrugged. “If we’re going to die anyway, we may as well be scene and emo about it.”

“I look good in emo bangs,” Ron commented brightly.

Harry shook his head and exhaled noisily. “Whatever. How much longer until the spell is ready?”

“When the crescent moon shines on the unicorn’s blood spilled by the sexually-confused offspring of a deceased, half-blood couple,” Hermione answered promptly.

Harry rummaged through the potions, chose a vial, and ran to the window. Seconds later, a faint crash could be heard as a dark liquid seeped into the cracks on the Weasleys’ front porch. “‘Kay,” he said.

“You’re sexually confused?” asked Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Now let’s get on with it; I’d like to be back in time to watch _Doctor Who_.”

“I’m telling you,” Ron said pointedly. “That bloke looks _so familiar_.”

“Right,” Hermione said in a commanding voice; Harry, Ron, Hedwig, Pig, Crookshanks, and every living creature in a twenty-mile radius stopped what they were doing to listen intently. “Now, it says here that we have to consensual anal intercourse at the same time -”

“I’ll be in the middle!” Harry volunteered.

“Fine by me,” Ron agreed.

“- before casting the Spell of No Return.”

Harry paused in his celebration of finally losing his ass cherry, which may have included an impromptu happy dance around the room. “Hermione?” he said slowly. “It’s called the ‘Spell of No Return’?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, regarding him oddly.

“… and you have no problem with this?”

“No.” Hermione glanced towards her mountain of notes. “It’s fool-proof.”

Ron nodded eagerly. “Fool-proof,” he repeated.

Harry shrugged and clapped his hands together; every candle in the room extinguished. “All right, then. Are we going to go hardcore NC-17 or just gloss over the details with an R?”

“Neither,” said Hermione, pulling a tube of Astroglide out of her supply bag. “We’re going to have a scene break.”

~*~*~*~

“Right,” Hermione said again, detaching herself from the sweaty pile of limbs on the floor and fastening her robes briskly. “Now that that’s done, we sit in a circle and put our wands together as we each speak the words of the spell.” She handed both Harry and Ron a single sheet of paper. “Are we ready?”

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed. “I can’t read this! It’s all… symbols and squiggly lines!”

“It’s _Japanese_ ,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “They are the only ones awesome enough to manipulate time. Don’t you watch _Heroes_?”

“Kore ga ore-tachi no ikikata sa!” Ron announced triumphantly before looking down at the paper again. “Hey, what do you know? I _can_ read it.”

“Me too,” said Harry, pushing his glasses up his nose and wondering when someone would cast the simple spell to fix his vision. “Let’s do this.”

“Shimashou!” Ron translated helpfully.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Please refrain from doing that throughout this entire escapade. The readers get enough of that from the author.”

“Gomen,” Ron said sadly.

“Are we ready?” Hermione looked from Ron to Harry before nodding firmly. “On the count of three. One, two, three -”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione began to recite the spell:

_Natsu no (s)hi no hana ni narimashou_  
kin no kin no kamen wo kabutte  
massugu ni taiyou wo nomikomi  
memokuramu memokuramu jounetsu ga ten wo sasu 

They closed their eyes.

~*~*~*~

“Look at my big, awesome wand!”

“Dammit, Benj, I told you to quit poking me with that thing.”

“This is almost as good as the time I dreamt that I had big, awesome wings!”

Joel sighed in remembrance; that was indeed a very good time. So was that other time, but that was Friends Only.

Benji poked him again with his wand.

Harry looked around. He was standing in what appeared to be the Great Hall, surrounded by a shit-ton of people he didn’t know. Except Ron and Hermione, of course, who stood on either side of him looking as bewildered as he felt.

“Girl!” someone shouted.

A hush fell over the crowd; all fifty thousand, two-hundred and sixty-three eyes (one particularly odd boy was wearing a pirate eyepatch) stared in awe at Hermione.

Lips pursed tightly together, she approached the crowd. “Hello. My name is Hermione Granger.” She paused. “We come in peace?”

“PI-SU!” screamed half of the room, nodding excitedly and giving the peace sign.

“Bukkake?” someone piped up.

“NO, JIN!” a chorus of voices scolded, taking turns punching the first.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Would anyone care to tell me what year it is?”

“Two thousand and seven,” a smart-looking boy with glasses and very full lips replied, walking up to Hermione and extending his hand. “How do you do? I’m Brendon Urie. I’m the most popular white boy in this school.”

“And we’re his fangirls,” a very skinny boy with bad hair and a rosevest added, standing by his friend. “We call ourselves Urie-nation.”

Ron snickered. Hermione stepped on his foot. “Two thousand and seven?” she repeated. “What month?”

“April,” Urie-nation replied simultaneously. “Our leader’s birthday was this month.”

Harry frowned. This was a little creepy. He left Ron and Hermione to their own devices and headed towards a group of Asian boys in sparkly, brightly-colored robes who looked like they were ten years old. “Hello,” he said in a friendly voice. “Are you first-years?”

“Seventh-year desu,” said a boy with a shaved head. “And I will kick your ass if you disrespect me.”

“Sumimasen,” someone jumped in, holding back his friend. “Koki-kun learned English from rap music.”

Harry nodded understandably. “You are all wizards?”

“Hai, hai, wi-zardos desu!” the boys chanted cutely, proceeding to introduce themselves in order of age, hair length, and album sales.

Harry had to struggle to keep up with the names as they were spewed out at him; that was an hour of his life that he will never get back.

“Want to see what I can do with my wand?” Kamenashi Kazuya asked saucily, winking at Harry and eyefucking everyone in attendance, his gaze lingering on a hole in the wall.

“Maybe later,” Harry said hastily. “Tell me, do you know who Voldemort is?”

A sea of “dare?”‘s followed his inquiry. Harry frowned. “There has to be a bad guy or this story has no purpose. Who is your bad guy?”

“Bad guy?” Takizawa Hideaki repeated, flattening his red mullet. “Our ero ero dansu sensai, Do(u)moto Koichi-san desu! He is very bad guy yo.”

“He said _bad_ guy, not _bed_ guy, Hide-kun,” his friend Imai Tsubasa corrected him, giving Harry an apologetic look. “It is a well-known fact that Koichi-san is down with the shota. If you want to sleep with him, you just ask for ‘special after-hours tutoring’. It’s our code.”

Every Asian boy within earshot nodded in agreement.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Harry.

Takki wrinkled up his ginormous nose in confusion. “I thought he was married to Do(u)moto Tsuyoshi-san, our ‘philosophy and other emo-type things’ sensei?”

“He is,” Tsubasa replied. “Tsuyoshi-san won’t let him top.”

Takki nodded. “Aa, wakarimasu.”

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you guys…” Harry began.

“Hajimemashite!” they all yelled. “Yoroshiku onegai shimasu!”

“‘Kay,” Harry said, looking over the Asian boys’ heads for Ron.

A young man stepped into his line of sight, his large dreadlocks blocking Harry’s view of the rest of the room. His very blue dreadlocks. Now that was odd, unless Harry really needed a new pair of glasses. This boy was also Asian, though “boy” might not be the name to use. He was beautiful, and Harry almost that he was a she, until he turned and had no breasts, and so went Harry’s hopes for crossing off “sleep with Asian Girl” from his list of things to do before Voldemort killed him. Damn.

The young man caught Harry staring at his blue and black tights that were under the young man’s robes. “Hello,” he said cheerfully. He bowed he head slightly; four other young man saddled up to next to him. “I’m Hara Toshimasa. Call me Totchi.”

Another of the men looked down his long nose at Harry as if he was someone worthless, his long spiked magenta hair dancing wilding as he moved. “Totchi-kun, let us not dirty ourselves with a common _gaijin_ ,” he murmured. “We must ready ourselves for the contest.”

The shortest man of the five of them rolled his eyes. “Baka desu yo,” he muttered. “Ignore him,” he said. “He’s the leader-sama, Kaoru. We all ignore him too, the prima Donna.” He bowed his head.

“And you are like those other Asians as well?” Harry supplied.

“GAH!” The red headed one apparently didn’t like that. “Not even!” He flipped his fucking ass long hair over his shoulder. “We’re the Jrockers.”

“I still insist that we need something a little more clever than that,” Totchi chirped. “I mean, we really are called Jrockers.”

“Baka!” Kaoru growled. “Let’s just go. I’m getting dirty in this little boy’s presence.”

They all left a rather bewildered Harry to his own devices, and he thought it might be best to try to block that part from his mind and look for Ron again.

He spotted him across the hall, speaking with a group of angry-looking tattooed men. Figuring that they couldn’t be any worse than the other groups he had encountered so far, he walked over to them.

“Oi, Harry!” Ron grinned, slapping him on the back. “These guys are so cool. Look, they have colorful pictures all over their bodies!”

“I see that,” Harry replied, unimpressed. “Have we figured out where we are yet?”

“Hermione says that we’re in some type of ‘AU’, whatever that is.” Ron shrugged. “The spell worked, just not properly. We’re not far enough into the future to read about our fates, nor do we appear to be in the right universe.”

“You probably forgot to add the crack,” a short kid with a mohawk spoke up. “Do they have crack in your world? It can fuck up your spell if you just use cocaine…”

“No, there is plenty of crack in our world,” Harry assured him, surprised at how easily the natives were accepting their rather outrageous situation. He turned his attention back to the tattooed men, who in his opinion looked a little too old to be attending wizarding school. “And you lot are?”

More names. Another hour of Harry’s life wasted. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to catch up on _Doctor Who_ in time for the season finale.

Zacky Baker, a short, pudgy guy with a septum piercing, suddenly jumped to his feet and pointed to his bare wrist. “The time! Brian, we have to practice for our contest tonight!”

“What kind of contest?” Ron asked, clearly interested.

“We’re having a fanservice battle,” Brian Haner, Jr., explained, using a long finger to push his even longer bangs out of his eyes. He reminded Harry deeply of Professor Snape, except in a hot way.

“I don’t see why you bother,” said Johnny Christ, the kid with the mohawk. “Akame have been the reigning champions since we were first-years.”

“Only because they go all the way,” Zacky replied, shrugging. “But we’ve got something planned that will blow them out of the water!”

“What we _need_ ,” said Brian bitterly, “is a cute pairing name. ‘Synacky’ and ‘Vengyster’ just aren’t cute enough.”

“It’s a good thing they don’t let the teachers enter,” Johnny said, elbowing one of the twins. “Those J-poofs could take lessons from Benji and Professor Shadows!”

“We already take lessons from Professor Shadows,” the other twin said, looking confused. “He teaches ‘ass-kicking and otherwise acceptable methods of owning the world’ class.”

The others rolled their eyes but made no effort to let poor Joel in on the joke. Harry felt sorry for him, if only because he had no piercings and his tattoos weren’t colored in.

“What other kinds of classes are there?” Ron asked. “Can we take some of them while we’re sorting out our shit?”

“You have to speak with The Man,” Johnny said cryptically. “Only he can give you permission to attend classes. It’s a very prestigious school, you know.”

“Where can we find this ‘The Man’?” Harry asked. “And don’t you have proper classes like Charms and Transfiguration -”

Everyone laughed. Including Ron; Harry gave him a Look.

“We already took that bullshit,” said Benji, waving his hand dismissively. “In seventh year, you take the important classes that you will need to survive in the Real World.”

“Ero ero dancing is important?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Depends what you want to do.” Benji pointed to the Asian boys, who were dancing merrily in a circle singing ‘Waracchau yo Boyfriend’. “See those foreign kids over there? They’re what we call ‘passion fairies’. They study magic as an art and use it to make all things pretty.”

“What about those kids?” Harry asked, pointing towards Urie-Nation, where Hermione was still engaged in conversation with their leader. “They look pretty enough.”

“They’re the ’emo brigade’,” Benji explained. “Their magic is deep and profound, misunderstood by anyone who is not one of them. They do a lot of old-school shit like brew potions in big, black pots and sacrifice virgins to the gods.”

“That’s why there’s only a few of them left,” Joel added. “Virgin sacrificing class was last year.”

“Then there’s us,” Johnny jumped in, motioning to the twins and himself. “We’re the ‘punk rawr’ kids.”

“Rawr?” Harry repeated. He had never heard of such a word.

“Yeah, we’re angry,” Benji explained. “And a lot more misunderstood than those pussies over there. They have no idea what it’s like to have your black heart dying.”

“Huh?” Ron scratched his head.

“So what kind of magic does your group perform?” Harry asked politely.

“Violent magic,” Johnny answered calmly. “We learn fighting curses and make things explode. The passion fairies use our spells a lot in their performances. Special effects and all.”

“It’s quite interesting,” said Joel. “We learn the dynamics of different spells and how to combine them in order to make something happen.”

“That’s ‘fucking shit up’ class.” Benji nodded. “I’m sexin’ the guy who teaches that too.”

Johnny grinned thoughtfully. “Ah, good old Professor Lovato. I thought he was suspended for maiming someone?”

“They revoked it when they realized that it was a class demonstration,” said Benji. “And because it was Pete Wentz he killed. Nobody liked that douchebag.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy,” said Johnny, collecting his belongings. “Hey, I have a special after-class tutoring session with Professor Do(u)moto.”

“Which one?” asked Benji quizzically.

“Both of them.” Johnny winked and walked off.

Harry scratched his head. “You really don’t have a bad guy?”

“The Man is kind of a dick,” said Joel, shrugging. “But it’s not like he’s running a boy harem or anything.”

Across the room, Hermione’s brain kicked into gear at the drums of impending doom that she could swear she heard starting up in the distance.

~*~*~*~

“I’m kind of partial to ‘sparkles and how to pull off wearing them while maintaining your masculinity, however much that may be’ class,” said Hermione, flipping through the course catalog over dinner.

“Shouldn’t we be thinking of ways to get _home_?” said Harry.

“There has to be something in this school to help us reverse the Spell of No Return,” Hermione replied testily. “We won’t know unless we take some classes.”

Harry gaped at her. “How are _sparkles_ going to get us home?”

“I want to take the ass-kicking class,” said Ron eagerly. “I wonder if you have to pass a test to get in.”

“You could sleep with Professor Shadows,” Hermione suggested. “Word in the halls is that’s how he chooses his students.” She frowned. “This whole being a girl thing sucks.”

“What classes are you going to take, Harry?” inquired Ron.

“I don’t fucking care,” Harry spat angstily. “Sign me up for whatever you lot aren’t taking. That way we can cover more ground and see if Hermione’s theory is correct.”

“Suit yourself,” said Ron.

“Konbon wa,” said a friendly-looking and kind of really hot Asian boy as he approached their table. “I’m the designated asshole to talk you guys into joining our side. Yamashita Tomohisa desu, but everyone calls me Yamapi. This is my bitch boy, (b)Akanishi Jin.”

“Yamapi is the most popular Japanese boy in this school,” Jin said. “He’s also the smartest and the most good-looking and the best dancer -”

“Enough, Baka-chan,” Yamapi said briskly, turning towards the other three. “I have taken it upon myself to talk to The Man about your education here, and he has graciously agreed to allow you to sit in on our classes for the length of your visit. Would you care for a tour around the school?”

“Yes, please,” said Harry gratefully. He left with Yamapi and Jin and was pleasantly surprised to discover that this school had the exact same layout at Hogwarts. He wondered if the secret passages were still there.

When he returned to the Great Hall, a normal-looking boy with brown hair was talking to Hermione. Upon noticing Harry’s arrival, he stood up and extended his hand politely. “I’m Jon Walker,” he said cordially. “I’m the only straight boy in this school.”

Hermione looked like Christmas had come early. Ron scowled.

Jon looked at Hermione’s schedule. “‘Suicidal poetry; how to kill yourself in five verses’? I’m in that class. I’ll help you catch up.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione. “What is the professor like?”

“Professor Martin?” Jon smiled. “He’s great. He insists that we all call him Billy, though.”

“What’s ‘Engrish’?” Harry asked, peering over the schedule Hermione had made for him.

Jon shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not in my fandom.”

“Car shrimp,” Jin supplied helpfully.

Jon and Yamapi eyed each other. Their obvious extreme loathing and possible unresolved sexual tension for one another was interrupted as a shrill cry sounded from across the room.

“Kazu-chan!” Jin shouted, clasping his face to his hands in horror.

“Not again,” Yamapi said exasperatedly, dragging Jin over to where Kame was being shoved into the wall (rather happily, Harry noticed) by Johnny Christ.

“Those punk rawr kids are mean,” said Hermione, frowning. “I’m glad I’m not taking any of their classes.”

“I think they’re bad ass,” said Ron. “Besides, that kid deserves it. He was making fun of Johnny’s hair.”

Jon nodded. “We take hair very seriously around here. Which one of you is taking the ‘expressing yourself through hair and external scars’ class?”

“We thought Harry should take that one,” replied Hermione.

“Naturally,” groaned Harry.

Brendon arrived to collect Jon. “It’s time for our nightly meeting in which we discuss how awesome I am,” he told him before turning towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Since you are our guests, how would you like to judge our fanservice battle tonight?”

Harry opened his mouth to politely decline, but Hermione beat him. “We would love to!” she squealed.

“Hermione -” Harry started.

Hermione and her eyebrows shot him a Look and he thought it best to keep quiet.

Jon glanced sheepishly at Hermione. “Would you like to hook up later?”

“YES!” Hermione yelled.

Jon smiled. “Awesome. Meet me in the Room of Debauchery after the contest.”

“Okay!” Hermione agreed.

Ron glared at Jon’s back as he walked away. “You know he’s only interested in you because you’re a girl.”

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said huffily, gathering her things. “You are such an ass.”

Harry whistled as she walked away. “Women, huh?”

~*~*~*~

“And in this corner, the most popular white boy in school and his favorite boy toy: Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross!”

A third of the room cheered loudly as Brendon and Ryan held hands and bowed. Next to them, Jin and Kame scowled while still managing to look pretty.

Professor Do(u)moto Koichi cleared his throat. “And finally, in their first ever fanservice battle, let’s hear it for Zacky Vengeance and Synyster Gates!”

There was an audible snort in the crowd. “Could they have picked more retarded names?”

Tsubasa nudged Harry from the next seat; one member of each fandom had been chosen to judge along with the trio. “Hide-kun and I tried to compete this year, but they said we were too good.”

Harry nodded because he wasn’t sure what else to do.

Ron chose this moment ask Hermione, “What _is_ ‘fanservice’, anyway?”

Hermione continued staring dreamily at Jon, who was the obvious representative from his fandom.

“First up,” Professor Koichi announced, being overdramatic as usual. “The defending champions: Akame!”

The other two pairs left the stage as the lights went out and slow techno music began to play. Kame and Jin, both with sinful smirks on their faces, ripped off their shirts and started to dance in what Harry could only think of as ero ero. There were cheers from a third of the audience as they slowly moved towards each other, moving provocatively and swinging their hips in a way that no man ever should.

Then they very obviously made out. Harry wanted to look away, but it was like a trainwreck; he couldn’t avert his eyes. Next to him, Ron looked both traumatized and intrigued, while Hermione was only halfway paying attention. Tsubasa shook his head and whispered, “They sure like to go overboard. You’d think they were really together.”

“They’re not?” Harry whispered back, surprised.

“Oh God no.” Tsubasa stifled a laugh like it was the most preposterous idea he had ever heard. “They’re both incurable sluts. I mean, _look_ at them.”

Harry couldn’t argue as he watched Jin lay down on his back and Kame straddle his waist, both continuing to grind in beat with the music. They finished their performance with Jin on his knees in front of Kame, Kame’s fingers in Jin’s hair as he rotated his crotch in Jin’s face on the final beat.

The Great Hall roared in applause. Professor Koichi made a big show of wiping sweat off of his brow as he took the stage. “Judges?”

Harry scrawled an eight on his white board and held it up. He probably would have given them a ten, but the whole ordeal had seemed a little too forced.

Next up were Brendon and Ryan. Both were dressed to the nines, complete with make up, and they danced ballroom-style to an upbeat polka song. An important thing to note was that Ryan was wearing an evening gown and made a very convincing woman despite his faint facial hair.

Brendon slammed their foreheads together a couple times and pretended to kiss Ryan, but overall it was nothing compared to Akame’s performance. Harry gave them a five and got booed by the entire emo brigade. He sincerely hoped that he didn’t have any classes on their schedule.

The next group was called Visual-Kei and it was a two part-er. First were the asshole and the offended on from previously above, their hair meshing in a rather nice way as the red head–now complete with goggles on top of his head and a dead rat around the collar of his skin tight leather jacket–put his guitar around his back, and began to play Kaoru’s while Kaoru rested the back of his head on Die’s–that was apparently his nick name–shoulder, his face looking like he was getting one rubbed out for him.

The second part was just of Kyo molesting himself thought his tight black leather pants. It was extremely erotic in that “this guy is just using the contest as an excuse to get off on stage in front of everyone” kind of way. Harry gave him a ten, but the other two only got a one because Kaoru is a fucking bastard.

The last pairing was Zacky and Brian, who brought their guitars onto the stage and played a three-minute duet back-to-back, leaning their heads back on each other’s shoulders. At the end, Zacky lifted his guitar into the air while Brian knelt in front of him, strumming the last note. Harry appreciated the subtly of it and gave them a seven.

It was obvious who had won. “Yay for Akame-chan!” Professor Koichi exclaimed, bouncing excitedly. “Way to make me proud, boys. Seventh year in a row!”

Kame and Jin tongued each other in celebration. Kame threw Jin to the ground and Harry was surprised; he had pegged Kame as a bottom.

~*~*~*~

“Welcome to Engrish class,” a very feminine looking Asian man with a lip ring and a long, purple ponytail greeted Harry the next morning. “Miyavi-sensei desu. Today we will be learning how to express ourselves from the heart. Please have a seat.”

Harry looked around. He was the only white boy in this class. He felt the other kids staring at him as though he were a piece of particularly juicy steak of which they could all partake. Grudgingly, he made his way to the only empty seat next to Akanishi Jin, inwardly dreaming up ways to get back at Hermione and Ron for getting him into this.

Jin continued to stare at him, a very creepy grin on his face. Harry wracked his brain for something to say.

“Good show last night,” he said casually. “You two deserved to win.”

“Doumo,” Jin replied brightly.

“Ohayou gozaimasu,” Professor Miyavi greeted the class. “Or as we say in Engrish -”

“GU-DO MOUNIN!” the class exploded.

Harry arched an eyebrow.

Professor Miyavi walked to the front of the room and pointed his wand at the dry-erase board. The sentence “saying how you feel without looking like a pussy” appeared in fuchsia marker. He repeated it out loud and faced the class. “Anyone care to demonstrate?”

Takizawa Hideaki raised his hand, bouncing eagerly in his seat. “Ooh, ooh, pick me!”

“Takki-san,” Miyavi said, smiling. “How would you say that you are sad?”

“I don’t cry!” he announced triumphantly, showing his dimple as he grinned widely.

“Very good.” Professor Miyavi paced the room. “Akanishi-san, how would you react to a girl breaking up with you?”

The room erupted into giggles at the mention of a girl. Jin blushed an interesting shade of crimson and suddenly threw himself to the floor, having a mock tantrum. “Why, Jennifer?” he screamed. “WHYYYYYYYYY!”

Miyavi tut-tutted and Harry made a mental note to introduce him to Hermione later. “That was bad, Akanishi-san. You looked very much like a pussy right then.”

“Gomen, Miyavi-sensei,” Jin said sadly, crawling back into his seat.

“Let’s try this again.” Professor Miyavi looked around the room and stopped in front of Tanaka Koki’s desk. “Tanaka-san, would you care to take a shot?”

“Bitch better have my money!” he exclaimed, pounding his fist on the desk and snapping his neck.

Professor Miyavi beamed proudly. He patted Koki on the head and turned towards Harry. “Patta-san, what would you say if someone told you that they like pop music?”

Harry froze. What kind of question was that? He thought everyone liked pop music; that’s why it was called “pop” music. “Me too?” he guessed.

Shaking his head, Professor Miyavi proceeded to spin around the room, his ponytail whipping behind him. He stopped in front of Imai Tsubasa and pointed in his face. “Imai-san?”

Tsubasa covered his face with his hands and muttered something inaudible. Takki giggled girlishly.

“Nani?” Professor Miyavi prompted.

“Poop is dead,” Tsubasa said in a monotone voice, looking at the floor.

The class cheered. Harry banged his head on the desk.

~*~*~*~

“Expressing yourself through hair and external scars,” said Professor William Beckett, “is not easy. It never is, is it, when you are feeling so much pain?”

Finally, a class Harry could relate to. He listened intently as Professor Beckett flipped his hair thoughtfully and perched his thin frame on what should have been his desk but what really was a whole lot of nothing. Harry saw the symbolism clearly.

Unfortunately, a large number of the emo brigade were in this particular class, and Harry found it difficult to concentrate on Professor Beckett’s moving words when every single one of them was glaring at him through their bangs.

Except Jon Walker, who approached Harry after class and pulled him into the closest room, startling him out of his enlighteningly depressed reverie. “Our secret club is having a meeting tonight,” he hissed, his eyes darting back and forth as though someone would overhear; they were in the girl’s bathroom. “It’s very important that those of us who are skilled in our trades overlook our differences and embrace them, uniting together for the greater good. I spoke with Hermione about it last night after we… well, you know. She said you might be interested.”

“I am,” said Harry, very interested indeed. “Does that mean that you really do have a bad guy?”

Jon put his fingers to his lips. “We dare not speak his name. Come tonight and we’ll fill you in on our master plan. Room of Debauchery, after dinner. The password is: applebottom.”

The word sparked Harry’s bullshit detector. “Are you trying to get me to go to one of your cult meetings?”

“No,” Jon insisted. “I wouldn’t subject my worst enemy to that kind of torture.”

Harry believed him, sort of. They walked to the Great Hall together, passing by a group of about twenty Asian boys, led by Yamapi, in a circle around Kame, all of whom reaching for their belt buckles. “What the -” he started to ask Jon.

Jon shrugged. “Some weird game they like to play before meals. I think it’s called ‘bukkame’. I don’t get it; must be an Asian thing.”

Harry shrugged and joined Ron and Hermione at their table. Hermione was already describing her morning classes in animated detail. “… and then Professor Martin showed us how emotional poetry plays a big part in the arithmic creation of a spell. The stronger the feeling, the more powerful the spell.”

“Fascinating,” Ron said in a bored tone. “So I beat the shit out of one of Urie’s minions in Professor Shadows’ class -”

“Which one?” Jon asked abruptly, at the same time Hermione cried, “How did you get into that class?”

“Ryan Ross,” Ron said proudly, turning to Hermione with a smug grin. “And I got in the same way he did.”

Jon winced. “Respect.”

Ron nodded and stuffed his face.

“How were your classes, Harry?” Hermione asked politely.

“Good,” Harry replied nonchalantly. “I learned how to not talk like a pussy and how to appreciate my scar.”

Hermione smiled proudly. “See, I told you that you would learn something useful.”

Harry pondered this as the twins joined their table.

“Hi,” they said together. “How were your classes?”

“Amazing,” Hermione said eagerly. “I wish our real school was this much fun.”

Benji leaned down, inadvertently dipping his chin in his lunch. “Do you guys know about the DVDA?”

“The what?” Ron replied.

“The DVDA,” Joel echoed his twin. “It’s our secret club.”

“It’s called the DVDA?” Hermione squeaked, looking pale.

“Yeah,” said Benji. “The ‘Diva Vengeance of Destiny Association’. You’re coming tonight, right? Jon Walker mentioned that he spoke to you about it.”

“Since when do you talk to -” Ron began loudly.

Hermione covered his mouth with her hand.

“The DVDA knows no boundaries,” Benji and Joel recited together. “Nothing can be conquered while we are divided.”

Harry nodded firmly. “We’ll be there.”

~*~*~*~

“ _Nureta akai kuchibiru nameru you ni yubi de nazuru_ …”

Harry tried his best to imitate Professor Do(u)moto Koichi’s movements, but his hips would simply not swing that way. Ero ero dance class was more difficult than he had previously thought.

Professor Koichi paused the music and pranced over to Harry. “Mmm,” he said thoughtfully. “It looks like you’re suffering from SCMS.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked, starting to panic.

“‘Standard Caucasian Male Syndrome’,” Professor Koichi replied seriously. “We’re going to need to loosen you up if you’re going to get anywhere in my class. Would you like to schedule a special after-class tutoring session?”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Um, no thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Takki-san, prease work with Patta-san for the remainder of this class. Patta-san, just relax your muscles and allow Takki-san to guide you. The rest of you, back to work!”

Harry froze as Takki approached him from behind. “You really do have potential,” he heard Takki whisper in his ear. “Your physique is very nice. Do you work out?”

“Takki-san! I said ‘guide him’, not ‘seduce him.'” Harry thought that he detected a hint of amusement in Professor Koichi’s voice. “That is Shinya-sensei’s class, not mine.”

“‘Body awareness, whether yours or someone else’s’,” Takki explained as he placed his fingertips on Harry’s waist. “I am the best student in that class.”

“That’s comforting, really,” said Harry.

The music started up again and Harry found himself being moved to the beat. It wasn’t too bad, in a this-would-only-happen-in-an-alternate-universe way, and by the end of the song Harry was rather enjoying this expressive form of dance.

“Good, good!” Professor Koichi praised his class, clapping wildly. “Now we will learn how to grab our crotches with poise. It is probably the most important move in ero ero dancing, if only to serve as an inconspicuous way of adjusting yourself in those hideous tight pants.”

Harry nodded understandingly and paid close attention as Professor Koichi demonstrated the move. He had to admit that Professor Koichi made it look very dignified and graceful.

“Think you can manage this one on your own?” Takki asked.

“I believe so,” said Harry. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime.” Takki let go of Harry’s waist and started to move back into his spot. “See you at the meeting tonight.”

~*~*~*~

“I’m very curious about DVDA,” Harry said quietly to Ron and Hermione at dinner. “It sounds like there is some sort of conspiracy going on at this school.”

“I get that feeling too,” said Ron. “Everyone seems so happy, though. Even in their respective cliques.”

Harry looked around the room. The passion fairies were playing another round of bukkame, the emo brigade were fawning over Brendon, and the punk rawr kids were having an acoustic session. At the teacher’s table, Professor Beckett was deep in conversation with Professor Do(u)moto Tsuyoshi, who was being spoon-fed by his husband Koichi while Professor Miyavi stared lovingly at his food and Professor Shadows glared at everyone in attendance. It was rather odd, but it could have been a lot worse.

“Does The Man not eat with us?” Harry asked a boy he had never seen before, who had just plopped down at their table and began eating with them.

“He dines in his private quarters,” the boy replied. “He doesn’t like to be disturbed. Tell me, what do you think of your time spent here so far?”

“It’s been… educational,” Harry summed up.

“A learning experience,” Ron added.

Hermione said nothing, presumably preferring to eyeball this kid like he were hiding a big secret. “What year are you?” she asked bluntly.

“Seventh,” he replied, glancing around quickly. “We’re all seventh-years, in case you haven’t noticed. This is to keep the author from being squicked by mentions of underage buttsex.”

Hermione nodded. “And what fandom are you in?”

“Punk rawr,” he answered, gesturing to his many visible tattoos. “So what are your plans for this evening?”

“We’re going to a -” Ron started.

“- orgy in the greenhouse,” Hermione finished, very obviously crushing Ron’s foot under the table if his face were any indication. “I’m getting gang-banged by everyone. It will be very boring; you wouldn’t want to go.”

“Ew, het,” the boy said, making a face as he got up to leave. “Well, see you kids later.”

“Hermione!” Ron gasped when the boy was out of earshot. “What was that all about?”

“That was a _teacher_ , Ron!” Hermione hissed.

“He said he was a student!” Ron argued.

“Do believe everything everyone tells you?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, I do,” Ron said firmly.

Hermione pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “That was Professor Lovato. I would recognize that hair anywhere. We can’t very well go around telling _teachers_ about the DVDA!”

“We don’t even know what it is yet!” argued Ron.

Hermione huffed. “It’s obviously something that needs to be kept a secret from the staff, otherwise it would be a school-sponsored club.”

“She has a point,” said Harry. “Speaking of, we should probably get going. Some of the others are starting to head up there.”

Hermione frowned as several members from each fandom began to stand up and look around very incriminatingly before tiptoeing out of the hall. “These kids need some serious lessons in subtly.”

~*~*~*~

“Applebottom,” Harry whispered through a hole in the wall where the Room of Debauchery was; it was labeled “The Glory Hole.”

The door creaked open and they were ushered inside by an unknown kid. “I’m Spencer Smith,” he introduced himself. “I need to ask you a few questions before I let you through. Standard procedure; you understand. One: have you ever been alone with one of our teachers for something other than sex?”

“No,” Harry, Ron, and Hermione answered simultaneously.

“Two: have you drunk the water here?”

“No.”

“Three: When was the last time you masturbated?”

“Before this… journey,” Harry admitted.

“Ditto,” said Hermione.

“This morning,” said Ron. “Wait, girls can masturbate?”

Spencer pointed his wand at Ron and covered him in a faint purple glow. “You’ve been tainted,” he announced. “I can counteract it, but it will hurt.”

“Way to go, genius,” said Harry exasperatedly. “What the hell made you want to get off in a room full of guys?”

“Yamapi was doing it with his bed curtains open,” Ron said bashfully. “It was really hot.”

“Dammit, Pi,” Spencer said, clasping his hand to his head. “Just because he’s immune doesn’t mean that he should flaunt it. Hold your breath, Ron.”

Ron’s cheeks puffed full of air and Spencer began a complicated spell in which his wand movements greatly resembled the aforementioned activity as Ron’s glow faded to a mother-of-pearl white.

“What happened?” Hermione asked.

“You’ll find out inside,” said Spencer cryptically, dropping his wand and leaving Ron particularly dazed. “Follow me.”

The room was almost crowded by their fellow peers, most of whom the trio had met already. Unlike the other times, though, they were mingling inter-fandom and looked quite content with it.

“Are we all here?” Tsubasa stood on his toes to count heads. “Good, let’s begin.”

“ _Tsubasa_ runs the DVDA?” Harry mused out loud. “But he’s so shy!”

“Pfft,” said Takki from nearby. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Your Engrish is getting better,” spoke up Jin, grinning at Takki.

Everyone quieted down as Tsubasa started to speak. “For the sake of our new members, let’s begin tonight’s meeting with our mantra.”

Harry noticed a strange echo as everyone chorused together.

“‘Those who try to change us betray us, for true beauty cannot be transformed. The more we are pushed, the more we defy; for one’s soul is a unique and individual snowflake, one which is not for remolding.’

‘A long journey; which way should I choose to be happy? I could choose a map of the future and keep dangling after anxiety. To be or not to be; in the end, I’ll aim for the way I want, if only the magnet of my chest. Believe that there is no correct answer. It’s okay if I make a mistake.'”

Frowning, Harry tried to make sense of the very bad translation. Before he could get past the first semi-colon, Tsubasa continued.

“Too long we have been brainwashed by our supposed superiors,” he boomed. “Too long we have had to pretend that we’re not joining together to fight back, knowing our end is near. By day, we are followers, forced into a life led by others; soon, we will be free. To live, to _exist_.”

The room erupted in applause. Harry was so, so confused.

“Don’t you get it?” said Takki seriously, or at least as seriously as he could pull off. “This whole school is a cover-up for The Man’s covert operations. We are simply pawns in his game of life.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Ron, nodding fiercely.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Will somebody please explain to me what the fuck is going on here?”

Naturally, Hermione answered him. “The Man is running this school to turn these boys into men they’re not, obviously.”

“How clever of you,” said Jin, bowing his head respectfully. “But that’s not the whole story. You see, The Man used to be popular, revered even. Then he became an outcast, resorting to hiding so that no one would see the shame he bore. He hand-picked us from the world that we once shared with you, transporting us into this realm where we were suddenly eleven years old. Those of us who excelled in certain areas were made teachers; once our friends, they are now being controlled completely by him.”

“I miss Ko(u)-chan,” Takki said sadly with a sniff.

“And I miss Beckett,” said Brendon Urie, his characteristic smirk gone.

“We miss Paul,” said the twins. “And Billy,” Joel added as an afterthought.

“They’re too far gone to be saved,” Jin continued, wiping his eyes. “They will have to be the sacrifices made in order to free our souls from this enslavement.”

“I still don’t get it,” said Harry bluntly.

“The Man is living vicariously through us, Harry,” said Ryan Ross. “He is turning us into mini-clones of himself at three separate stages of his career. Three stages: three fandoms. And three of you, although I’m not quite sure what that has to do with anything.”

“It has to do with _everything_ ,” said Tsubasa, who had abandoned his podium and was now staring at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as though he’d been searching for them for years. “This is _their_ world, a world full of magic and spells. The Man obviously got the idea from somewhere. Since they claim copyrights to it, maybe they can stop it.”

“Wait a minute,” said Harry, stepping out into a random clearing in the middle of the group. “You mean to tell me that you guys are all bent out of shape because someone crossed your fandoms?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Tsubasa shrugged. “You can’t have a story without conflict, ne?”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione started; Harry tried to tune her out. “They’ve been enslaved here. It’s not merely fandom-crossing. It’s some sort of slavery. They’re captives.”

Ryan nodded sadly. “Our existence itself is made a mockery by the forces that have surrounded us and made us who we are- or who we were. This,” he gestured around him, “is merely a façade, a caricature of the greatness The Man-”

Brendon cut him off. “We’re stuck here like. Like. Pigs in a pasture.” The emo brigade nodded their approval.

“And now we’re here,” Joel lamented, “living this. This. Emotionaless existence.”

Benji shrugged. “I think he means that nothing here even matters because it’s not even fucking real. It’s not _anything_. It’s _nothing_.”

“How very redundant of you,” Harry observed.

Benji nodded and Joel patted his shoulder encouragingly.

“Sometimes,” Ryan admitted, “I cut myself horizontally with safety razors, just to see if I’ll still bleed.”

Brendon gasped melodramatically.

“Sometimes,” Spencer put in, “I’d also like to cut Ryan just to see if he’ll bleed.”

Ryan huffed and moved away from Spencer.

Harry sighed into his hands. “Okay, look. Have you guys ever actually put together a plan to _overthrow_ him or do you just sit around and bitch?”

“Sit around and bitch,” replied Brendon firmly.

“You have to beat him at his own game,” said Harry, walking towards the podium. “Do you guys want to go home?”

A solid chorus of “yes”es and “hai”‘s filled the room.

“Do you want your friends back?” Harry pressed.

“Tsuyoshi-kun,” Tsubasa said quietly, burying his face in Takki’s shoulder and shaking with sadness. Takki embraced him strongly, a lone tear shining down his porcelain-looking face.

“Shads,” Benji whispered almost inaudibly.

“Stumpy,” Ryan added, pouting.

There was a soft sigh and Hayashi Yoshiki murmured, “Shin-chan.”

Harry took that as a yes. “What we need to do is practice really hard at the things he is – was – good at, and then we can overpower him and therefore override whatever spell he has cast to trap you lot here.”

“That’s impossible,” sobbed Tsubasa. “He took away the best of the best, remember?”

“Then learn from them,” said Harry simply. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a part of them is alive inside those shells and trying to train you to do exactly that.”

Tsubasa blinked and looked up at Harry. “You said ‘we’. Does that mean you will help us?”

“If you go home, we go home too,” said Harry, shrugging. “Win win situation.”

“That’s a hell of a lot better than my idea,” said Ryan. “Mass suicide is no way to celebrate such a momentous occasion.”

“So it’s decided, then?” Harry asked the group, smiling as they all nodded. “All right, now this is the plan…”

~*~*~*~

Harry walked into his “Body awareness: whether yours or someone else’s” class quickly and found himself a seat, but still ended up next to Takki. Takki seemed to have a thing for him ever since ero ero dance class. The boy glanced over at him, batting his eyes. Harry adverted his eyes. Takki was becoming far to temping for his poor little British mind.

Harry’s eyes wondered around the class in avoidance of Takki’s come-hither stares and found them resting on the naked woman lying in the bath tub. Harry did a double take. Wasn’t Hermione the only girl in this school? Then the “woman” sat up and Harry noticed that when he would have adverted his eyes once again, there were not breasts to advert his eyes from. Evidently, this woman was a man. Much like Totchi, but only more so. Harry’s mind could distinguish male from female, and so this man stayed in the classification of woman.

The man stood completely, and Harry would have thought that he was going to enjoy a good show, except for the fact that this woman needed to eat a damn cheeseburger!

“In this class, we will learn about our bodies and the bodies of others.” She pointed down to her crotch. “This is my cock.” She looked back at the class. “We don’t use anatomical names by the way.” She moved her pointing finger up to her chest, add the other finger. “These are my teats.” She turned and bent over, reaching though her legs to point at her ass. “This is my man-pussy.” She turned around. “Now everyone undress, get a partner, and find these places on each other’s bodies. Be sure to pay special attention to each place and to get hands on about it. You must be _beri_ aware of these places.”

Harry started, his eyelids glued to the professor. “You have GOT to be kidding me,” he muttered. Harry felt hands grab his arm in a iron grip. He looked over and saw Takki there.

“You’ll be my partner, right, Patta-san?”

~*~*~*~

Exactly one week after Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s faulty spell, the DVDA congregated for what might be the last time ever.

“All things considered,” Brendon said solemnly, “it’s been really great getting to know you guys.”

“Ditto,” said Johnny Christ. “Maybe when we back to our real lives, we can do lunch or something.”

Brendon smiled. “Definitely.”

Kame approached the pair and bowed deeply. “Even though you picked on me, you are very nice people. Besides, I secretly liked it.”

“I know you did,” Johnny said with a smirk.

“Enough with the sappy good-byes,” said Yamapi, who was for some unknown reason decked out in hot pink camouflage. “Are we ready to do this shit?”

Everyone screamed. Harry noticed Hermione pull Yamapi aside and eavesdropped on their conversation.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” she said quietly. “I know why I couldn’t be brainwashed; I’m a girl, obviously. But why you?”

Yamapi sighed. “This is not something I’m proud of, but… I’m his pet.”

“The Man’s?” Hermione prodded.

Yamapi nodded. “Yes. The Man took a great liking to me in the beginning and spared me the telepathically-transmitted mind control and orgasm-induced drugs in exchange for my, um, compliance.”

Hermione gasped. “You were eleven! That’s sick!”

His jaw strong, Yamapi continued. “It is because of my sacrifice that the others were informed on what was happening before the brainwashing had taken total effect. I guess you could call me a spy; I call it ‘he tells me shit and I tell them.'”

“I am very, very sorry you had to go through that,” said Hermione genuinely, reaching out to touch Yamapi’s arm. “But I’m sure the others are grateful for it. And now you have your chance to get revenge.”

Yamapi nodded, more to himself than to Hermione. “Yeah. I’ll show _him_ a dick in a box.”

Biting her lip, she presumably left well enough alone and joined Harry and Ron standing around nonchalantly. “Do you really think they’re ready, Harry?”

“No,” Harry replied. “I think _we’re_ ready.”

A sea of smiles brightened the room.

“Diva Vengeance of Destiny Association,” Harry began. “Let’s fight for our lives.”

The group began making their way through the castle, traveling in pairs so that everyone had one person watching their back. Except Yamapi, who would be going in first as a decoy. Harry and Ron were right behind him, using that spell they had used that one time while riding the Thestrals in OotP. To the naked eye, Yamapi walked into a large ballroom alone.

The room was empty save for a large mirror on the wall. Yamapi bowed in front of it and spoke. “Jakko-sama,” he said in a deep voice. “Sumimasen, but it is an emergency.”

Much to Harry and Ron’s horror (he had to stuff his fist in Ron’s mouth to keep him from screaming), the _creature_ who appeared in the mirror was none other than the King of Pop himself.

“What is it?” his high-pitched voice pierced Harry’s ears. “What is more important than my beauty sleep?”

“The others…” Yamapi said quickly, feigning a sob; he really was a good actor, despite what the critics say. “They’ve all died.”

“What do you mean, they’ve _all_ died?” Michael Jackson asked briskly.

Yamapi burst into tears. “It was so awful!” he wailed. “They all stabbed themselves in the heart with butter knives at dinner! The Fantabulous Hall is nothing but corpses!”

Michael Jackson considered this. Eyeing Yamapi carefully, his nonexistent lips parted until his mouth formed a giant O; Harry thought that he greatly resembled that creepy kid in _The Grudge_. “They’re… all… dead? My precious…es..?”

Nodding, Yamapi fell to the ground, his body convulsing. Harry seriously thought he was having a seizure until he caught one brown eye winking in his general direction. Damn, this kid was good.

“I don’t believe you,” Michael Jackson spat, glaring angrily with his plastic eyes.

Yamapi stilled and met his stare with sad eyes. “See for yourself. There is no more. They’ve left you.”

“NOBODY LEAVES ME!” Michael Jackson roared.

The mirror shattered and broke, leaving in its place a gorilla-sized hole and a very scrawny once-black man. His body shook as he walked towards Yamapi and lowered his zipper. “Looks like it’s just me and you now, pet.”

The fire burned in Yamapi’s eyes. “Fuck you.”

Michael Jackson gasped flamboyantly. “What did you say?”

“I said: Fuck. YOU.”

“Now!” Harry shouted.

Yamapi tackled Michael Jackson, forcing him to his knees and pinning his arms behind his back. Harry let up the invisibility spell on him and Ron, scrambling to either side of The (So-Called) Man and spelling his eyes to remain wide open.

“Enjoy the show,” Harry hissed sinisterly.

Zacky, Brian, Johnny, and the twins came out first, followed by Ryan, Jon, and Spencer. They quickly set up their makeshift stage, which was pretty much their formation since Hermione had charmed their respective instruments to amplify without electricity. Despite their differences, their music flowed well together; Michael Jackson started looking pained when Zacky and Brian started their famous guitar duet.

“Since when did Michael Jackson play in a rock band?” Harry wondered out loud.

“He was in a group,” Yamapi hissed, struggling to keep The Man down. “It’s close enough.”

A spotlight came out of nowhere and Brendon sauntered into the room dressed in a sailor’s uniform, complete with the hat. “ _Is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed? When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you’re sliding off your dress?_ ”

“Of all the songs…” Yamapi muttered. “Hey, is that Tsuyoshi-kun’s hat?”

“ _Then think of what you did, and how I hope to God he was worth it. When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin._ ”

Spencer started going crazy on the drums and the song took on a dance remix beat. Kame, Jin, Koki, and the three fug kids who seemed to follow them everywhere formed a half-circle behind Brendon and busted a move. Harry was deeply impressed; it was far beyond the scope of their ero ero class. He knew Professor Do(u)moto Koichi would be proud.

Brendon stood in the middle, gesturing artistically as he continued singing, the twins backing him up with perfect harmony. “ _I’ve got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck, than any boy you’ll ever meet. Sweetie, you had me._ ”

Takki and Tsubasa came out from either side, both wearing insanely shiny jumpsuits with giant flowers on the crotch and their trademark neon feather boas. They completed the circle of Asian boys and danced in a different way that somehow blended perfectly with the others.

“ _Girl, I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of exchanging body heat in the passenger seat._ ”

The twins did the next line by themselves as they sequentially morphed into another song. “ _Let’s get these teen hearts beating, faster faster… faster faster… faster faster…_ ” Their voices lowered to a whisper, then Joel took the lead. “ _I rock a lawsuit when I’m goin’ to court, a white suit when I’m gettin’ divorced, a black suit at the funeral home, and my birthday suit when I’m home alone._ ”

“It’s working!” Ron shouted, pointing towards the door. “Look, the teachers are here!”

Sure enough, a row of sleepy-looking men in brightly-colored robes and fuzzy slippers stood in the doorway, looking confused. Professor Billy Martin looked longingly at the twins, his jaw twitching.

Joel bounced around, slinging his arm in a true rap fashion; Tanaka Koki joined him and emphasized the last word of every line. “ _Talkin’ on the phone, got an interview, with the rolling stone. They’re saying, ‘Now you’re rich and now you’re famous. Fake ass girls all know your names.’ And Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, your first hit aren’t you ashamed of the life, of the life, of the life you lead –_ ”

“Fuck no!” everyone shouted.

“ _I just wanna live_!” Joel stretched the last word to cover several measures while the song changed up again.

Brian Haner, Jr., took the next lead, screaming at the top of his lungs. “ _I won’t be the victim, but the first to cast a stone_.”

“ _Sedated nights to the bar room fights as metropolis takes its toll_ ,” Zacky chimed in, with harmony from – Professor Miyavi?

Yamapi grinned widely. “Miya-chan ganbatte!”

Zacky and Brian sang and played their guitars back to back. “ _And don’t you try to stop me; it’s a place you’ll never know. Don’t try to judge or take your shots at me. I’ll never let you seize control._ ”

Professor Miyavi let out a horrendous roar, but Yamapi was still smiling so that must have been IC for him.

Harry looked down to see Michael Jackson crying, his tears sliding down his silicone face. “Please, make it stop. I am so weak.”

“Keep going!” Yamapi yelled. “We’re almost there!”

Another key change, and every Asian boy in attendance took the floor. Takki and Tsubasa were in the front, followed by Jin, Kame, and the ones who weren’t important. A familiar tune became recognizable, one which apparently made Michael Jackson scream in agony and beg God for mercy. Even Harry was tired of this song, and he had only been hearing it for a week.

The boys danced as only they could do, jerky hand movements and high kicks that would look really retarded if performed by one person alone. It was mesmerizing, almost; the only thing that took Harry’s attention away from it was the sound of Yamapi sniffing beside him.

“I should be out there,” he said sadly. “This is my fight too.”

And if on cue, Joel Madden, having nothing better to do now that his song was over, showed up and gestured for Yamapi to hand over the defeated, frail man. “Go, Pi,” he said, smiling.

Yamapi bowed deeply and raced over to join the group, taking his appropriate place between Jin and Kame and screaming, “FOOOOOOOO!” at the top of his lungs. The dance turned very sensual, Yamapi and Tsubasa moving very suggestively to the one song that should have never had such defamation (but did, constantly).

Suddenly the lights went out, the music stopped, and only a lone voice was heard. “ _Boku no kokoro wa, hibiwareta BI-tama sa._ ”

Harry gasped; Professor Do(u)moto Tsuyoshi emerged from the darkness, glowing in his pajamas. A beat later, Koichi was next to him; they shared a glance and a smirk before singing together. “ _Nozoki komeba kimi ga sakasama ni… utsuru._ ”

The lights and music returned full force; Takki, Tsubasa, Kame, Jin, Yamapi, Brendon, Professor Miyavi, and Professor Lovato all chimed in with the chorus, dancing animatedly.

“ _Stay with me! Garasu no shounen jidai wo hahen ga mune eto tsuki sasaru. Nani kaga owatte hajimaru; kumo ga kirete boku wo terashi dasu… Kimi dake wo –_ ”

Every single person in the room sang the last word in perfect 70-part harmony: “ _– aishiteta_.” Tony Lovato, Brendon Urie, and Professor Shadows all did jazz hands.

Harry looked down. Michael Jackson had disintegrated, except for his fake parts which were hanging out by Harry’s feet. The world around him was slowly becoming distorted.

“Harry-chan!” a sea of voices called out, sounding far away. “Doumo arigatou gozaimasu!”

He heard the twins next. “Thanks, Harry!”

“Yeah, man, we owe you one!” called out Brendon and Ryan.

“Where’s Gackt-sensei?!”

“He’s the Japanese equivalent of Jakko-sama, so he disintegrated too.”

“Where the hell was he the whole time?!”

“He was in the scene break after the plan and before the plan went down!”

“Who the hell cares?!”

“What the fuck are we, chopped liver?” asked Ron.

“Apparently,” said Hermione, sighing.

“Hey, where are you guys?” Harry asked, feeling lost inside his own mind. “And what the shit, Hermione? You disappear just before the climax of the whole damn thing?”

“I wasn’t supposed to be in it,” Hermione snapped. “I’m a girl. Stupid biased authors.”

Hermione got sucked into a black hole and died. Just kidding.

Harry blinked, and they were back in Ron’s room at the Weasleys’ house.

“What the fuck just happened?” Ron exclaimed.

“Seven minutes,” said Harry slowly, staring at the clock beside Ron’s bed. “We were gone for seven minutes.”

Hermione flopped backwards, her hair cushioning her aching head. “And we’re still no closer to the end of Book Seven than we were when we left.”

“There’s a moral to this story, though,” said Harry brightly.

Ron and Hermione looked at him expectantly. “Well?” Hermione prompted.

“Hell if I know,” said Harry, shrugging. “You’ll have to figure this one out for yourselves.”


End file.
